The Hiltons: The True Story of an American Dynasty (42 page)

“You two love the idea of being Hilton’s international representatives, don’t you?” Carole said to the Hiltons. She couldn’t help but notice the glow on both their faces.

“I never thought I would,” Trish said. “But, yes, it
has
been amazing.” Trish added that she enjoyed the traveling, the opening of hotels abroad, the excitement of meeting new people. Somehow, she concluded, it suited her and Nicky. “I don’t know why…”

“I know why,” Nicky chimed in. “It’s because we’re such a great team,” he concluded, looking at his wife with great admiration.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Trish said bashfully. “You’re the star of this family,” she told her handsome husband. “You always have been.”

“It’s so true, Nicky,” Carole agreed. “Why, you’re like a… a… a
Kennedy
!” she exclaimed. “You have so much charisma, so much magnetism.”

Nicky blushed. “It’s not me,” he observed modestly. “It’s just luck. We’re in the right place at the right time.”

The end of the 1960s was a booming time in history as far as the American travel industry was concerned. Airplane travel was at an all-time high, especially now with the addition of jumbo jets to every airline’s fleet. The far reaches of the world were now easily accessible by anyone with the money for a plane ticket and a hotel room.

Taking advantage of the increase in air traffic, Pan American World Airways had broken new ground in the travel business by establishing a subsidiary called the InterContinental Hotels chain. The plan was for the airline to direct its passengers to hotels it had either leased or purchased around the world—thirty-six in all—providing not only a convenience but a price break on the purchase of travel tickets. The InterContinental chain was a real thorn in Conrad’s side, because it specialized in the same areas of expertise as Hilton, sometimes purchasing but mostly leasing hotels abroad, assisting local developers in the design, construction, and renovation of these hotels, and then managing them. So far, by 1967, InterContinental had not made any headway in domestic hotels, so at least Conrad still had that leverage over them. Still, he had to admit that the competition’s merging of air travel with hotel accommodations was a good idea. Always a visionary and industry leader, he couldn’t help but feel great annoyance that it hadn’t been
his
idea.

Conrad was somewhat appeased when, toward the end of 1966, representatives from TWA—Pan American Airways’ chief competitor—contacted him to explore the possibility of going into business with him. TWA had taken a good look at the growing Hilton International enterprise and viewed it as a possible asset. In obtaining it, the airline wouldn’t have to create its own subsidiary to compete with Pan American and InterContinental; it could just align itself with the Hilton brand and compete that way. It was an interesting proposition, and with almost $200 million on the table, Conrad, his instinct for business growth still intact, was intrigued.

“Tired of Being Misunderstood”

B
y the end of the 1960s, Conrad Hilton’s multifaceted feelings about his oldest son had become even more conflicted. Maybe it was understandable. After all, Conrad had been putting up with Nicky’s erratic behavior for most of his namesake’s adult life. Now in his old age, he was just plain sick of it.

Bob Neal recalled a troubling November evening in the winter of 1966 when he witnessed firsthand the great tension between Conrad and Nicky. The two men were in the living room of Nicky’s enormous mansion watching a Walter Cronkite broadcast about the Kennedy assassination three years before. J. Edgar Hoover had just announced that all evidence pointed to Lee Harvey Oswald as having acted alone. “That’s bullshit,” Nicky said. “There were at least two shooters, maybe three. It’s some kind of cover-up.” As the two friends watched the program and discussed conspiracy theories, a crystal carafe of scotch sat in the middle of the coffee table before them, their two empty glasses on each side of it. When Trish walked into the room to announce that Conrad had come by unexpectedly, Nicky rolled his eyes and, turning to Bob, sarcastically muttered under his breath, “All hail.” On cue, Conrad walked into the room, straight as a board, still agile and determined in his gait. Taking one look at the display of carafe and glasses on the coffee table, he stopped and looked at Nicky. “Not overdoing it, right?” he asked. “Tomorrow’s a work day.”

“Pop, I’ve had exactly one drink,” Nicky said wearily.

“You sure about that, kid?” Conrad asked, now standing in front of his son, arms folded, blocking the view of the television set.

“Sit down, Dad,” Nicky said, trying to lighten the mood. “Take a load off, why don’t you?”

Conrad didn’t want to sit. Instead, as he towered over his son, he began to ask him questions about a business deal concerning the Hilton hotel in Paris. However, Nicky wasn’t in the frame of mind for business, nor was he prepared for a meeting. In a measured tone, he told Conrad that all of the paperwork relating to the Paris hotel was back at the office. He said he didn’t have it memorized. “You’ll have to wait until tomorrow when we’re at work,” he told his father, all of this according to Bob Neal’s vivid recollection of events.

“You know, when I was your age, everything was right up here,” Conrad said, pointing to his head. He then recalled that when he started in business, he always knew every detail of everything that was going on, because “back in my day, that’s how we operated.”

Was Conrad purposely trying to pick a fight with Nicky? Maybe not. But Nicky was offended anyway. “What are you trying to say?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Conrad answered. “I’m just having a conversation with my son, that’s all.”

Nicky stood up to face his father. “Look, I know I’m a disappointment to you,” he told him defensively. “But see this, right here?” he asked, gesturing to himself. “This is the best I could do with what I had to work with.”

Conrad stood in place looking at Nicky with a furrowed brow as if trying to completely digest what he’d just heard. Then, seeming upset, he turned and strode toward the door.

Nicky visibly crumbled. “Wait, Pop,” he pleaded. “Hold on a second,” he said as he ran after him. “Wait!”

It’s not known what happened between Conrad and Nicky after they left the living room. However, whatever transpired in the next fifteen minutes was likely not pleasant, at least judging by Nicky’s demeanor when he returned and sat back down on the couch next to Bob Neal. He seemed utterly defeated. “I shouldn’t have lost my cool,” he said as he buried his face in his hands. “I just feel like I’m such a failure in his eyes.” He poured himself another scotch.

“But that’s not true,” Bob Neal said. “Don’t be so down on yourself. Your old man thinks you’ve done a great job, or he wouldn’t have promoted you.”

Though Nicky tried to listen to his friend’s words of encouragement, they seemed to slide right off him. “I’m tired of being misunderstood,” he concluded with tears in his eyes, “by my old man, by my brother, by everyone. It’s wearing me down.” He buried his head in his hands for a moment as if he was about to unleash a torrent of tears. But he didn’t. Or… maybe he couldn’t.

The two friends then talked about aging and how upsetting were the consequences of the time. Nicky said that he never imagined his father would change so much as he aged. “He was always a man you could reason with,” Nicky said. “Now he’s just so cantankerous.” Then, in a moment of sheer wisdom and understanding, he added, “I think he’s afraid. I get it, Bob. He’s afraid of dying. But…
hell, man
. So am I,” he concluded. “I’m not ready to go either, pal.”

Bob assured his friend that he had “plenty of years ahead.” At that, Nicky smiled. “You know what I’m looking forward to?” he asked with a mischievous grin. “I’m looking forward to the day when I’m eighty and I can give my sons what-for and they just have to put up with it because, well, they got no choice—and the hell with both of ’em because that’s just the way it works! Right?” At that, both men laughed, touched their glasses, and threw back another shot.

Nothing Personal

I
t happened in the middle of January 1967. That’s when Conrad Hilton and Charles C. Tillinghast Jr., chairman of the board of TWA, agreed in principle on a merger between TWA and Hilton International. The deal would call for TWA to issue for each share of Hilton International a combination of .275 of a share of TWA common, and a half share of a new issue of TWA preferred. This exchange of stock would benefit the Hilton Hotels Corporation with at least $250 million, and the understanding that the Hilton name would remain on its hotels abroad. Many—but certainly not all—of the executives working for the company would keep their jobs. However, Hilton’s international division would now be wholly owned not by Conrad Hilton but by TWA.

Frank G. Wangeman, an executive of the Hilton Hotels Corporation at the time of the merger, recalled, “As a senior vice president, and subsequently a director of the Hilton Hotels Corporation, I retained a policymaking role. Thus did I witness the transaction that Conrad Hilton would forever regret. Trans World Airlines came to us and said, in effect, ‘If you sell your overseas business to us, with our international know-how, we can make that company grow faster for your shareholders.’ So he went for it.”

This was bad news for Nicky Hilton. Basically, since he ran the foreign division, it meant that he would either be out of a job or seriously demoted. Everything was about to change in his life, and as Conrad’s attorney at the time, Myron Harpole, put it, “The Cain and Abel story of Barron and Nick was about to escalate to a whole new level.”

“But,” Myron Harpole hastened to add, “Mr. Hilton also had reasons that did not involve Nicky for wanting to sell the foreign properties. For instance, the Havana Hilton had been taken over by Castro, and then they had an attack on the hotel they owned in Cairo. He told me that he was beginning to become concerned about the vulnerability of his hotels in foreign locations. That worry also played into the decision, as well as, of course, any disappointment in Nicky.”

Myron Harpole was not involved in these delicate negotiations, but as Conrad’s attorney at the time, he was well aware of what had transpired around them. “Barron thought it was good business, the money was good,” he recalled. “Conrad wholeheartedly agreed. Unfortunately, the consequence of this decision would be the deprivation of a role in the company for Nick. I think now, in retrospect, given Nick’s temperament and insecurities, perhaps more consideration could or should have been given to what such a decision would have meant to his pride and self-worth. But Nick wasn’t controlling his personal life all that well, and that made him vulnerable. Nicky was so idealistic, I’d have to say that he truly did not see it coming.”

The notions of power and money had never been as important to Nicky as they were to Conrad and Barron. It was always approval that Nicky sought. “But you couldn’t really be a successful Hilton without placing
some
premium on power and money,” observed Noreen Nash. “Conrad and Barron thought alike when it came to that. Barron used to say, ‘Along with money comes power and along with power comes money.’ Nicky was more emotional, more sensitive. He let his heart rule many of his decisions. Not Conrad and Barron. They were tougher. They were of the same mind.”

“Nicky and I were in Africa opening the Hilton hotel in Rabat when those negotiations took place,” recalled Trish Hilton. “Because I had studied French, I was able to give the opening remarks in celebration of the hotel completely in that language. Nicky was so proud. We were like a royal couple, hosting one of the most successful press junkets in Hilton history. However, Barron and Conrad were not there. Though Nicky and I both felt it odd, Nicky took it as a vote of confidence. ‘They must think I’m doing pretty good if they’re putting me out here on my own,’ he said. Unfortunately, that’s not what was going on at all.”

“I love you,” Nicky had told Trish on New Year’s Day 1967 as they toasted each other. Neither had any idea of what was in store for them. In that moment, they were just ecstatically happy in their marriage, and that’s all that mattered to them. “I want you to know it, Trish. And I want you to believe it every day,” he concluded, “for the rest of your life.”

Trish was moved by her husband’s sudden burst of sincerity. “Why are you saying this to me now?” she asked him, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Because I should have said it a long time ago,” he told her. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise.” He added that he knew what it was like to be let down by a loved one. “I know what’s that’s like, Trish,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”

Nicky had not been a perfect husband, that much was certainly true. He had a quick temper, and of course, his addiction to Seconal and alcohol had taken on the role of a mistress in his marriage: It was always present, always intrusive. Still, Trish fought what she refers to as “the good fight,” and did whatever she could to support and love her husband. Whatever his faults, he never cheated on her and he never physically abused her, just as he had promised so long before. She had never met anyone who believed in her as much as he did. He worshipped the ground she walked on, felt she could do no wrong. Therefore, she wanted to be there for him. In the coming months, Nicky Hilton would find that he needed Trish more than ever.

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